


Carry You

by Mohini



Series: Bits and Pieces [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-19 20:26:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14880654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mohini/pseuds/Mohini
Summary: His body remembers how this works, even if it was a lifetime ago.





	Carry You

He wakes up startled, sitting up and trying to figure out why he’s suddenly hyperaware of something, though he’s not sure what it is. He rolls over, reaching out for Steve and discovers the other side of the bed is empty. He wills himself to relax, assuming that this must be what woke him, the empty space where there should be 200 pounds of snoring super soldier. His shoulders tighten when it occurs to him that Steve doesn’t ever leave the bedroom without waking him and telling him where he is going. 

Standing and heading out of the room, James listens carefully for any clue as to where Steve might be. It takes a few minutes, but then he hears it, soft, ragged breathing from the hall bathroom. That’s decidedly odd. There’s a bathroom attached to their room. Why would Steve wander out here in the middle of the night to relieve himself? James is about to knock on the door when Steve whimpers and all thoughts of trying not to pry are gone. He opens the door to find Steve crouching into the far too small space in front of the toilet, forehead on his arm, which is wrapped around the bowl and gripping the edge with white knuckles. 

“Hey there, you’re alright,” James assures him, kneeling and putting a hand on the back of Steve’s neck. It’s warm. Too warm. Fever warm. 

“Don’t feel, alright, at, all,” Steve mutters, the words muffled by gritted teeth. James changes position, body remembering how this works, even if it was a lifetime ago. He cups a hand around the side of Steve’s face, trying not to worry at the impossible heat pouring off him. 

“Relax, sweetheart, let it out and you’ll feel better,” James tells him, index finger of his flesh hand slipping gently from the nape of Steve’s neck to the edge of his lips. He presses inward just a bit, coaxing Steve’s mouth open in slow increments, his thumb tugging the other man’s jaw down at the same time. 

He wakes up startled, sitting up and trying to figure out why he’s suddenly hyperaware of something, though he’s not sure what it is. He rolls over, reaching out for Steve and discovers the other side of the bed is empty. He wills himself to relax, assuming that this must be what woke him, the empty space where there should be 200 pounds of snoring super soldier. His shoulders tighten when it occurs to him that Steve doesn’t ever leave the bedroom without waking him and telling him where he is going. 

Standing and heading out of the room, James listens carefully for any clue as to where Steve might be. It takes a few minutes, but then he hears it, soft, ragged breathing from the hall bathroom. That’s decidedly odd. There’s a bathroom attached to their room. Why would Steve wander out here in the middle of the night to relieve himself? James is about to knock on the door when Steve whimpers and all thoughts of trying not to pry are gone. He opens the door to find Steve crouching into the far too small space in front of the toilet, forehead on his arm, which is wrapped around the bowl and gripping the edge with white knuckles. 

“Hey there, you’re alright,” James assures him, kneeling and putting a hand on the back of Steve’s neck. It’s warm. Too warm. Fever warm. 

“Don’t feel, alright, at, all,” Steve mutters, the words muffled by gritted teeth. James changes position, body remembering how this works, even if it was a lifetime ago. He cups a hand around the side of Steve’s face, trying not to worry at the impossible heat pouring off him. 

“Relax, sweetheart, let it out and you’ll feel better,” James tells him, index finger of his flesh hand slipping gently from the nape of Steve’s neck to the edge of his lips. He presses inward just a bit, coaxing Steve’s mouth open in slow increments, his thumb tugging the other man’s jaw down at the same time. 

They’re teenagers again, only this time Steve’s not tiny and fragile. He’s a mountain of muscles, but he’s shivering and tears are streaming down his face just the same. His breathing has gone tense and shallow now, and James knows they won’t be waiting much longer in this in between place. Some things, it seems, never change.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, as Steve begins to cough, weakly at first and then harder, until the coughing turns to retching and finally to a rush of half digested stomach contents pouring into the waiting toilet. When it’s over, Steve is boneless, collapsing into James and panting for breath. James half expects to hear a wheeze in there somewhere, though he knows that at least, truly is gone for good. 

“Think you’re empty for now?” he asks Steve.

“Can’t, hurts, don’t think I can walk,” Steve tells him, and James kisses his overwarm forehead. 

“Good thing I can still carry you, then,” he replies, picking the other man up and taking him to bed, tucking him under just the light sheet before racing to the en suite to grab the trash bin, just in case.  


**Author's Note:**

> Come find me over on Tumblr @ Mohini-Musing


End file.
